


Fight Night

by ToukoTai



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Romance, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:44:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToukoTai/pseuds/ToukoTai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Washington is a walking talking one man fight club and Maine’s along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I DO still write rvb fics. I'd never abandon my favorite fandom.  
> Or Wash  
> especially not Washington.

Maine meets Washington on a sunny day at the beginning of fall term. In an alley by Maine’s off campus apartment, in the ‘unhappy’ side of town,(as Florida had put it.) with a bruised nose, a rapidly blackening eye and spitting blood on the sidewalk.  
  
“Sorry about that.” He says straightening up and wiping his mouth with the split knuckles of his right hand. “Usually, I’m a little more on point. Name’s Washington.” Maine grunts and helps the guy up the stairs to his apartment. He pulls out the first aid kit he’s never actually needed to use and gets Washington a zip bag with ice cubes wrapped in a dish towel. Watches as Washington slaps the makeshift ice pack over his black eye and half his wounded nose with a sigh of relief. After a moment of consideration, Maine gets Washington a glass of water. He watches from the table as Washington swishes the liquid around his mouth. The water is pink when he spits it out, but he grins sunshine and rainbows over at Maine, all swollen eye, black and blue nose and white teeth tinted red. “Thanks for the assist, didn’t expect that one guy to whip out the brass knuckles.” He says, limping back over to the table and basically dumping himself into the chair. “Probably could have taken him though.”  
  
 _Fuck_ , Maine thinks as he falls head first into deep spiritual _like_ with Washington.

After knowing Washington for a whole two weeks here’s what Maine can safely say he knows about the guy:  
-Washington is a junior, rocking the engineer major; he’s on the four year plan and has an internship for the summer already lined up. “I like to be thorough.” He’d informed Maine.  
-He lives in a dorm suite with three other guys. They’ve been friends since a very awkward forced triple with the random single next door as the only Freshmen in a junior dorm.  
-His friends have something of a friendly rivalry going on with the guys in the suite down the hall. A rivalry that also dates back to their freshman year. “They were the floor below us.” Washington tries to explain, as Maine steadies the chair he’s standing on to newspaper the door of the designated red suite. “Direct competition for…I dunno, school spirit I guess?”  
“Who the fuck cares.” Church, one of Washington’s suitemates puts in, ripping a strand of duct tape with his teeth. “This is the best time waster we have ever had.”  
-He’s a jeans and t-shirt kinda guy.  
-The blond hair is not natural and was not his choice. He fell asleep early at a suite party and his asshole suite mates died it on him because  
-Washington sleeps like the dead. Which is why he’s roommates with Caboose, as the only one who can sleep through the other’s snoring.  
-He likes cats. A lot.  
-He’s sarcastic to a fault and fiercely loyal to his friends. (The feeling is mutual, Maine gets the third degree from all of Washington’s suite mates and even from the guys in red suite.)  
-Wash is not above cheating at cards. “Never play with him man.” Tucker advises him, Maine still loses all his skittles. (Blue suite never plays for money because of Wash.)  
-Can create a fantastic meal from the cheapest of offerings. It’s truly amazing.

Oh, and Washington fights.  
  
Well, it’s not even that Wash goes out looking for a fight, fights just come to him. And no one had informed Wash that he wasn’t obligated to wade into whatever fist to foot tussle was happening around him. As soon as punches were exchanged Washington was there, giving out better then both original parties.

“It’s instinct I guess.” Maine raised an eyebrow and Washington shrugged. “I had bad acne and braces growing up. If I hit first, it was better.” And that was all that Washington could or would say on the subject.

The thing is, he’s a _damn good_ fighter. Washington knows punching, kicking, tackling and street fighting like a painter knows color theory. It’s like he’s some kind of brawler savant. Doesn’t stop his ass from getting beat sometimes(when the odds were stacked against him from the start), or from taking killer hits, Washington’s nose has been broken and reset more times than even he can remember. He always has some sort of bandage or band aide on. And the freezer in Blue dorm has an impressive store of ice packs, ice cubes and frozen vegetables then any group of four college guys should have. But Washington wins far more times than he loses, and the area around his dorm is the safest in the entire town to walk through at night.  
In a way it’s nice. Maine is bigger, taller, heavier than Washington, then most of the people he knows. He’s used to playing the protector, the guardian to his friends and previous significant other’s. Washington would be appalled if anyone even hinted that he couldn’t take care of himself or fight his own battles. Washington can more than handle himself and is extremely independent, even when he’s not. Caboose once had to sit on him to force him to accept help when he was stricken with the flu.   
  
Maine’s used to accidentally intimidating other people, even people who know him well. With Washington, it feels like something inside can finally relax. Washington doesn’t intimidate easy, if at all. Maine can accidentally loom over him and get nothing more than Wash saying a flippant ‘hi’. He can push Washington playfully and not worry about being too hard or playing too rough or not knowing his own strength. Washington is used to playing rougher than even Maine is comfortable with. Gets the feeling that Washington is the one holding himself back.  
  
It does get aggravating and a little nerve wrecking in a different way. Because Washington does spend a good deal of time injured or recovering. Most of the time he doesn’t even wait for his previous wounds to heal before he jumps into the next fight.  
  
“It’s kinda like being friends with the human punching bag.” Tucker said, Maine nodded his agreement and stuck a spoon in the carton of ice cream while on the couch behind them Washington groaned angrily. Ice pack firmly held in place against yet another swelling nose. Punch drunk Wash was a creature of beauty. High on adrenaline and strung out from probably one too many hits to the noggin, Washington after a far too successful fight was a riot. Which is why Maine didn’t think anything of it, when he was walking Wash home after another bar fight and the man pushed himself away from Maine to face him. Maine stared down at Wash slightly amused as Washington’s hands jerked in the air in aborted gestures. After a few seconds of this Maine reached for him, intending to continue the walk back to Blue suite, but Wash darted suddenly under his arms, stood up on his tip toes and kissed Maine on the lips. A hard press of chapped lips against his own with the faint taste of blood from a split lip.   
  
“I like you.” Wash finally came out with, when the two had stared at each other long enough. Because Maine sure as hell wasn’t breaking this silence. “I like you _a lot_. More than I’ve liked anything I think. Maybe even breathing.” More silence. “I probably should have waited until my lip healed, that kinda hurt.” Maine snorts out a breath of laughter and ruffles Washington’s hair. “Does this mean you’ll date me?” He looks pretty hopeful, so Maine leans down and kisses him gently. “Oh good, I thought it was just me.” Washington says when Maine pulls back.  
  
“I kissed him.” Washington announces as soon as Maine gets them in the door of the suite. “We’re dating now.”   
  
“About fucking time.” Church growls, viciously highlighting a section of his notes.  
  
And that’s all Washington’s friends have to say on the subject. Meanwhile, Maine still has to break it to his own friends that he even knows someone called Washington, let alone that he’s dating him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooner or later Wash had to meet Maine's friends...and Maine's ex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so things happened and SomuchPanAsh gave me an idea. And here we are.  
> Also I can never turn down writing Felix getting punched in the face, it's a weakness.

It goes like this.

Chorus was the new bar of choice among Maine’s friends. It was at a nexus point between the Dakota’s, CT, Carolina and York’s and Maine’s place.

It was a pleasant enough bar. Had trivia on Tuesdays, a wide selection of drafts on tap and made pretty elaborate ridiculous cocktails during Friday Happy Hour.

Maine and his friends preferred the outdoor drinking area. A lot more room to move around, not as stifling as the inside and much easier to see each other with the setting sun providing the light. Maine preferred places well lit.

The place was busy but not crowded. Other customers keeping to themselves, talking in their own groups. Maine and his friends had claimed one of the small bar tables with stools a little bit in the center of the outdoor patio.

It was a good end to the work day. Sitting among his friends, listening to their chatter. A no pressure engagement.

And it was about to get better. 

 

“Hey! Maine!” Because that was one of Maine’s most favorite voices. His head snapped up and over. Standing just outside the outdoor dining fence was Washington. He waved a taped knuckle hand when he saw he had Maine’s attention. Maine felt himself smile in response to Wash’s wide grinned face, even with the white bandage over his nose, which meant a recent fight. He hadn’t had it when Maine had seen him the previous morning. He lifted a hand to wave back even as he slid off his stool.

“You know that guy?” York’s face was the dictionary definition of incredulous. “I didn’t think you knew anyone else! I didn’t think you left your  _ apartment _ !” He yelled at Maine’s retreating back, Maine of course, ignoring York with long practice. He could still feel the curious gaze from his friends on his back. 

“Nice friends you got there.” Washington remarked, grin slipping into the small fond smile that Maine adored once only the waist high fence that outlined the outdoor drinking area separated them. “Oh! Check out who I picked up.” With one hand, Wash held a medium sized grey striped tabby. The cat stared disinterestedly back at Maine. “I found him a few alleys over.” Washington continued, stroking a hand down the cat’s back.

Maine raises his eyebrow. There’s probably a lot that Washington is leaving out. Like the fact that the knuckles of his left hand are bloody and swelling, and there’s another new cut on his cheek bone, which was also rapidly swelling.

“Okay,” Wash says, pulling the cat closer to his chest again. “I  _ may have _ been in a bit of a...uh...fight.” His eyes dart anywhere but Maine’s face. “Before I found him.” Maine breathed out a sigh through his nose. “I know, I know. It’s a work in progress, I’m  _ trying _ .”

 

Which was true. Washington was trying to keep his penchant for fisticuffs under control.

Just as Maine had been trying, in conjunction with Wash’s suitemates, to cut back on the amount of fights Washington found himself in. By acting as living barriers between Wash and seeing a fight if necessary. (If he didn’t see a fight, he couldn’t get involved, had been the entirely too simple logic Caboose had put forth.)

It wasn’t easy.

If anyone Maine knew had a superpower, it would be Wash, with the power to find the nearest fistfight. The strange part of this entire enterprise was that Washington hardly, if ever, started a fight on his own. Usually it was Washington ending what had started without him because Wash could never let a fight a pass him by.

_ “I’m not even angry.”  _ Wash said one night, sprawled on the couch with his head in Maine’s lap.  _ “I don’t have anger management problems. I just,” _ He shrugged, storm grey eyes looking up at Maine with mild confusion.  _ “It’s instinct.”  _ Was said with the tone of voice meaning  _ why are you asking me this? _

Maine hadn’t bothered pursuing that line of questioning at the time. 

Washington was a busy, busy engineering student coming up on midterms and he hadn’t had much free time to spend with Maine. So the time they did spend together Maine tried to make count.

And here was an unexpected gift. Maine had thought he wouldn’t see Wash again until their next date night on Friday. But there he was, in all his tattered jeans, faded hoodie wearing glory, obviously happy to see Maine too, if the small fond smile was anything to go by. From the bag slung over his shoulder, Washington was clearly on his way back to the dorms from the downtown library. This was definitely a chance meeting. The dying sun caught Wash’s hair(the faded dye job leaving behind perfect blond highlights) and clear grey eyes, even with the bags of sleep under them. At that moment, there was nowhere else Maine would rather be.

Of course Maine’s contentment, almost happiness, couldn’t last.

A nasal voice cut through the hum of conversation, or at least it did to Maine.

Unlike Washington’s voice, this was his absolute  _ least _ favorite.

“If it isn’t my favorite group of idiots.” Maine stiffened, freezing in place. He hadn’t known Felix came to Chorus. If he had, Maine wouldn’t come anywhere  _ near _ the place. “The big dumb giant anywhere around? Or is he still hiding?”

“Just keep walking, asshole.” South growled, her hand tightening around the beer bottle. Felix, sensing that if he pushed any further, she’d snap, just smiled. A toothy, mocking smile. South’s lips twisted in a snarl as Felix walked over to his own table.

Maine just breathed a quick sigh of relief that Felix hadn’t noticed him over at the edge, or if he had, hadn’t seen fit to come over and say hi personally.

The sigh got caught in his throat though, because Washington was there, and had heard everything.

“Who’s that?” Maine had temporarily forgotten that Wash was standing right next to him. 

Wash, his significant other, his significant other who had a  _ gift _ for fighting. The guy who single handedly brought down an illegal cage fighting operation, by accident, by royally fucking up every contender before they could make it to the venue. The guy who did not know the meaning of the words ‘don’t fight.’ The very same guy Maine had seen put a man twice his size and weight through a door for insulting Caboose not even a week ago. 

That Washington, who had heard every word Felix said, and from the small frown on his face, was not amused. That Washington, who had a mere hip high fence keeping him away from Felix.

Maine’s brain immediately shifted into ‘fight block mode’. He swung his body around, firmly blocking Washington’s view of Felix. Washington stared up at him, eyes narrowed, in that moment Maine knew that it was useless. Washington’s fist was going to make contact with Felix’s face no matter what Maine did. Because that look was one Maine understood all too well.

It was the one Washington wore when he was figuring Maine out. Maine didn’t talk all that much, which seemed to be just fine with Wash. He had a knack for knowing what Maine meant even when he didn’t say anything. Washington read his silences and that look meant he was reading  _ hard _ . 

Maine knew the exact second he got it. There was a quick widening of the eyes, then the mouth firmed, the shoulders rolled back and the eyes re-narrowed. For all that Maine had a good foot and a half on Wash, he couldn’t help feeling like it might be best to just  _ get out of the way _ .

“Here,” The grey tabby was thrust at Maine. Instinctively, he grabbed it, large hands gingerly cradling the unknown feline. “Hold my cat while I punch that guy.”

Wash easily climbed over the fence, just two steps with an arm bracing himself, going around Maine instead of forcing Maine to move for him. (It was the small things that Maine appreciated.) Washington stalked with purpose to where Felix’s loud confident voice continued laughing. Maine closed his eyes, let out a breath. That laugh was meant to hurt and humiliate, make him think that Felix was laughing  _ at _ him but Maine found he didn’t mind it any more. He might have a few months ago. He’d have ducked down and pulled into himself, made Carolina’s mouth tighten with worry, York’s voice go louder to cover. Made South’s fist clench and North’s eyes go sad. CT’s hand wrap around the knife at her plate.

Today though, today he felt like laughing with Felix.  _ At  _ Felix.

Because all five feet eight inches of fight ready Washington was bearing down on his unsuspecting target like a laser guided missle.

(Maine tended to fight his own battles, but there were times when he just  _ couldn’t _ , and Washington had never met a fight he could walk away from.)

“Hey, jackass.” Maine turned, eyes opening just in time to see the look of absolute surprise on Felix’s face when Wash hauled off and punched him.

 

“What is going on here?!”

For a brief, brief moment Maine thought they might get kicked out of Chorus. Kimball was the kind of lady you did not mess with. Not even Carolina tried her iron clad rules.

“ _ Washington! _ ” Wash paused, Felix securely in a headlock, locked stares with Kimball and punched Felix one last time without breaking eye contact. “ _ Drop him. _ ” Which he did, none too gently. Felix grunted and rolled onto his back, eyes slightly glazed with the look of mild head trauma.

“Hey Vanessa.” Washington smiled at her. Maine wasn’t sure what surprised him more, that Washington and Kimball knew each other, or that Washington was on a first names basis with her. Kimball looked down at Felix, back up at Wash and pinched the bridge of her nose. After what looked like counting backward from ten, she sighed, all the ramrod straightness leaving her spine in a woosh. When her eyes reopened, it was all business.

“Show's over everybody.” Kimball growled and a vast number of prying eyes turned back to drinks and food. Maine ghosted over to stand next to his table, overhearing what Kimball said to Washington. “You really can’t keep getting into fights in the bar, Wash.”

“In my defense.” Wash pointed both fingers at the ground. “I’m technically not in the bar.” Kimball just waved her hand toward the inside.

“That’s arguing semantics and you know it. Just drag the idiot inside and call Tucker. He’s worried you got lost.” So maybe they wouldn’t get kicked out afterall. It did appear these people were familiar with Wash and his...super power.

Washington grumbled a little, but unceremoniously dragged a half way conscious, groaning, Felix over the few broken chairs, into the dim interior of the bar proper. He flashed Maine a quick grin as he went. Kimball following along talking to him in a firm admonishing tone. From the small gestures Wash made, Maine could tell he wasn’t all that upset by what she was saying. But he wasn’t exactly defending himself either.

(Though it was something of a well known fact that Wash didn’t start a fight without a good reason.)

Maine watched the entire thing, watched Carolina’s amused smile, the way York’s fingers tip tapped their way along the table top, both twins slouching down once Felix was gone and how CT’s gaze snapped over to him. Saw one of the waiters, Palomo, slip a couple of folded bills to the bored looking bartender, Bitters. (You  _ never _ bet against Wash.)He watched all that, serenely petting the cat in his arms.

“He did that for you, didn’t he?” CT asked. And suddenly Maine was back to being the center of his friend group’s attention. Especially when he nodded.

“So think it’s time you answered my question.” York said playfully, but with a serious edge to his voice. “You know that guy?” He repeated.

“Washington. David Washington.” Carolina was watching him now, eyes sharpen then ever. Maine shrugged his shoulders, the cat settled itself more firmly down in his arms and began to purr. Wash’s dorm didn’t allow pets, but Maine’s apartment building did and Wash did love cats a whole awful lot. If Maine were to adopt a cat, say this readily available one, Washington would certainly come and stay over a lot more.

Maine ran another hand down the cat’s back, steadily ignoring the way everyone was suddenly sitting up a little straighter and paying just that little bit more attention to the direction Wash had vanished in.

“So,” CT began, propping her chin on her fist. A lazy grin on her face. She knew exactly what was going on. “Washington, huh?” Maine decided to just cut right to the chase.

“Boyfriend.” He very much enjoyed the way South spat out a mouthful of beer. All over North. York’s elbow slipped off the table and nearly took himself out completely in his surprise. CT and Carolina didn’t react. Or CT didn’t, Carolina blinked. And that was it.

“No kidding?” York managed in a strangled voice after hauling himself back onto the stool. Maine just stared at him impassively. South was busy coughing up a lung, next to her North wiped his face with a wad of cocktail napkins.

“I’m back.” Wash announced rather redundantly as Maine’s friends worked to get themselves into some semblance of control. A fresh cut on the other side of his face from the brief scrap with Felix. “Tucker says I get two frowny stickers.” (On Blue suite fridge was a weekday chart, every time Wash got into a fight he got a frowny face sticker, on days when he didn’t get into any fights he got a disney princess sticker. Maine hadn’t asked.) 

Wash automatically reached out for the cat, Maine moved the cat out of his reach. Did it again when Wash continued to reach. “Just give me the cat already damnit!” Washington demanded, laughing, instead Maine kept moving back until Wash stumbled against him. He waited until Washington tilted his head back to say something, then made his move. He tipped his head down and kissed Washington.

Partly to hear North splutter as South dosed him with another swig of beer and York fall off his stool for real this time. But mostly because he liked kissing Wash. (And never really needed an excuse to.)

And because Wash was Wash, when he pulled away he, of course, had the cat. And a very smug grin, which faltered into confusion when he caught sight of the five people watching him very closely. One from the ground.

“Uh...hi?”

There were worse ways to introduce Washington to his friends, Maine thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically Felix tried to do to Maine what he does later to Locus, and when he can't, he tries to destroy Maine in a different and far more painful way.  
> Wash ain't standing for that shit.
> 
> (his favorite princess is Aurora. 'Cause she gets to sleep all the sleep.)


End file.
